Yesterday, inspired and energized by sunshine (in the sky and in a pot), I took photos. Today, inspired and energized by a growing collection of “stars” in my Google Reader, I’m working on the plans. A work-in-progress that I need to begin NOW so I have a happily productive spring gardening vacation.

My favourite gardening and green living web sites are starting to publish tips, finds and new ideas for the coming growing season and so before I lose track of them, I’m going to process all those posts I’ve recently starred. Here’s the first batch:

A few weeks ago when I was rearranging space to store seasonal stuff (a frequently-repeated task when you live in a small apartment with no storage), at the back corner of the top shelf of a hard-to-reach, seldom-used kitchen cupboard (there are too many of these when you are less than 5 feet 4 inches tall), behind the electric fan, flashlight, old batteries, plumb line and wallpaper roller, I found this tin, which I was sure contained an assortment of kitchen hardware:

To my surprise (which later turned to a bit of worry about my memory lapse) I opened it to find this:

A collection of seed packets, evidence of annual Spring Garden Fever going back to 1995.

So why blog about this. For a few reasons:

(1) This year, I MUST schedule sowing dates on the calendar. And then NOT PROCRASTINATE. I confess many of these packages were never opened. I’m in strong favour of being more spontaneous and living in the moment — but a bit more discipline and time-sensitivity is necessary when you’re growing a garden.
(2) Just like judging a book by its cover, I know I bought a few varieties because of the pretty pictures on the packages. Through experiences (ie., poor germination) I’ve learned the ones that come in the plain brown wrapper (West Coast Seeds ) are the best.
(3) I’m a pretty ruthless declutterer but I will always find a box, drawer or scrapbook for used seed packages — for purely sentimental reasons. As I sorted through the tin’s contents, I recalled sowing perennials and herbs the first summer my parents lived in their Labelle Avenue home. My mom told my proudly she had done some weeding — and to my horror I realized she had removed all the Aquileglia (Columbine) I had just planted.
(4) On a more serious note, I hope that twenty years from now, we will still live in a climate that will allow us to grow such a diverse variety of plants. Thinking about this strengthens my resolve to grow a low-impact garden, even if I have to forego my favourite plants. (This will be very hard.)

Even though I’m having trouble keeping up with all the blogs I regularly read, as part of my fall cleaning, decluttering and simplifying strategy this morning I added another subscription to my Google Reader: Apartment Therapy. I’ve read this blog occasionally before but I’m now going to commit to reading it regularly and trying some of the ideas.

If I can create a clean, simple, functional interior with stuff and systems that don’t deplete my energy (as they are currently doing), I hope to have more time and space for gardening….and reading about gardening….and writing about gardening…and photographing my garden….and planning future gardens.

I love this ingenious, award-winning doggie-proof planter. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about my Westie chewing or digging, although I recently learned to keep the bone-meal out of snout’s reach as he wants to snuffle up the container’s contents.